


Firsts

by nagia



Series: Ghosts That We Knew [1]
Category: Rurouni Kenshin
Genre: F/M, even she's never sure she agreed to this; but the orders of the okashira are absolute, the dubcon is strong with this one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-08
Updated: 2018-09-08
Packaged: 2019-07-08 09:29:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15927620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nagia/pseuds/nagia
Summary: Later, Oumime will forget just how many times the Oniwabanshu called upon her to "lose her virginity" over the course of her career.





	Firsts

Later, Oumime will forget just how many times the Oniwabanshuu called upon her to "lose her virginity" over the course of her career. It's not as if it's the number that matters to her; she yields it up and yields it up, every time Okina-sensei or Makimachi-sama ask it of her, until she can no longer pretend to stumble upon what pleases a man.

 _Ask it._ Yet another of those sweet little lies she tells herself. The orders of the Okashira are absolute -- and, loyal as she has always been, she would never have mistaken them for a mere request. But thinking of it as something she willingly did has always helped her.

Still, a girl can only lose her virginity for the first time once. And as assignments go among the Oniwabanshuu, it's a gentle one.

He is a samurai of Choushuu, which has never been well-trusted by the Shogunate and has been less so, in these years of dark whispers and discontent. When Okina points him out to her, she is surprised to find that they have selected a young man as her target. He wears his hair in a top knot and carries daisho and walks with the overconfident swagger of a man who will probably die in an alley.

Seducing him requires no artistry. Indeed, _he_ sets out to seduce her almost from the moment she crosses his path. And he is pleasant-looking enough, hair waxed but not oily, eyes dark but never beady, hands callused but not cruel, that seeming seduced is no difficulty, either.

He decides he wants her in his own bedchamber, rather than some rented room, and she follows, careful to stay just steps behind, one hand caught in his sleeve. He's so intent on where he's going, what he'll do when they get there, that he never notices her palming a letter from within the sleeve-pocket.

In his room, his hands are gentle when he unties her obijime and unwinds the silk obi from around her kimono, uncaring of the delicate knot Omasu had folded and twisted it into. He drops the silk to the floor and then pulls her to him, and she goes.

She doesn't have to pretend to be uncertain of what she should do. He sees her confusion and laughs at it, not unkindly, and he is more gentle still when he pulls away all the layers beneath her clothing. He lowers her to his bed with surprising care, and follows her.

It doesn't hurt. She acts as though it does, wincing with her face and tensing her whole body, especially her muscles beneath and within. He works himself inside her slowly, as if he cares about hurting her, but his expression is too self-satisfied for her not to hate him.

When he moves, it's without any concern for the pain she'd pretended to have and he'd pretended to care about. It's all as inexorable as the tide; deep within her, and then almost wholly withdrawn, and then thrusting deep again. And she shudders and clenches around him and gasps and makes no effort to hide the tears pricking her eyes.

When he's done, he smiles, pressing his cheek to hers, and falls asleep. She rises, pulls her kimono on over her bare skin, and searches the room for anything that might hint at treason. When she finds nothing, she belts the kimono in a simple sash, then gathers up her obi and all the other layers, carrying them out in a bundle, face ducked down to hide the shame she'll never admit she feels.

She seeks out his name, later. She'd offered many men her first time, but he'd been _hers_. And even Oumime can be sentimental about a few things.

He lived long enough to die at Toba Fushimi. That has always surprised her.


End file.
